


the closing walls and the ticking clocks

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Kingsman: The Secret Service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: Harry Hart isn't the only one mourned.





	the closing walls and the ticking clocks

Harry Hart’s funeral is a private affair, weeks after V-Day and its cleanup. It isn't rushed, like James' s was, and it's held inside sprawling grounds of Kingsman’s mansion. Even funerals in Kingsman are secretive. Harry has no family—all dead, unlike James’ s , who were all alive but claimed James was dead even before he even set foot in Kingsman. 

This isn’t Percival’s first funeral, and it goes as expected: the air somber, glasses clinking solemnly to brief toasts, and people looking as if they desperately want to leave, but stay to honor the memories. No one strays far from the topic of the departed, and  worn-out  comments, such as  _ he was good man  _ and  _ such a shame to lose such a fine agent,  _ are frequent. 

There are the speeches, next, with the guests trapped at their tables. First, as the new Arthur,  Percival says his own eulogy , concise and simple .  He can hear James in the back of his mind, laughing over absurd funeral playlists. 

_ When I die, I want a rocket full of my ashes blasted off from HQ into space.  _

_ That would break at least five Kingsman codes. Along with several of the local and international laws.  _

_ Who cares? I want to at least go out in style.  _

He’s glad he doesn’t have to attend James’s. He wishes there was one. 

He sits down. 

Before  Eggsy stands, Merlin  claps one hand on the boy’ s shoulder . Merlin’s speech had been  punctuated by nose- blowings a nd trembling syllables, relating of how he met Harry through Kingsman, of how brave and cheeky and thoughtful he’d had been, how horrendous such a lovin g, good man had been lost.

Eggsy takes the podium l ast, with the paper clutched between hi s fingers, wrinkled and shaking like autumn leaves. He’s wearing all black, save a dark blue-and-red striped tie, with matching gloves, and the whole effect makes the boy’s c oloring look even paler.  His hands are visibly trembling. 

Beside Percival, Roxy’s hands on her lap  clench into fists. She sends  him a reassuring smile and nod, but it’s not clear if her friend has seen it.  Eggsy looks out into the crowd, unseeing, and bows his head, revealing a neat part down the center. 

The paper crinkles audibly on the stand, amplified by the microphone.  Someone shifts in their seat.  The top of the tree that’s providing the boy with shade shivers. 

Eggsy looks down at his paper. Clears his throat. 

“ I can't claim to have known Harry as long as you lot, or as well. ” 

Pause.  A visible gulp. 

“ But I w ouldn't have been here without  h im. ” 

Eggsy stops again, cheeks coloring.  He looks desperate,  as if he’s realized  a mistake, but the boy places both palms on the edge of the podium, bracing himself. But Percival can see the effort only makes his arms’ shaking more visible. 

On Percival’s right, Merlin looks as if he’s about to stand. Roxy’s fingernails dig deeper into her palms. Percival watches people in the crowd wait, politely silent, but the curiosity is almost tangible. He hears more creaks of chairs shifting, a soft cough, and the rustle of tree branches.   
  
"He changed my life," Eggsy manages to say, before his voice breaks, and Percival knows he’s not going to say all that’s written down on that sheet of paper. "He changed my life."   
  
_Ah,_ Percival thinks, feeling the pocket watch tick in his pocket, as Roxy rises to help her friend down from the podium. _I know. _

* * *

As Arthur, Percival is now in charge of a terrifyingly-old, terrifyingly-large organization, but he’s never shirked from duty and immediately arranges for trials—it will be odd to not be Percival any longer, but he’s been called that for so long that he still refers to himself as such—and other such measures. Merlin’s such a godsend that Percival is tempted to offer him his position twice, and  Roxy and  Eggsy work so hard that he makes them take a brief holiday under the threat of suspension. 

Eggsy takes all the missions he’s assigned, and although it’s not uncommon for a Kingsman agent to pass on at least one,  Eggsy never turns d own anything, from surveillance to espionage.  He knows the look of the boy—trying twice as hard to be thought of as good as anyone else—and tries to subtly praise  Eggsy without patronizing him. 

But  Eggsy only smiles wea kly and asks for another mission. 

It’s when Percival happens to pass by Merlin’s off ice to brief him when he realizes . 

Eggsy’ s pacing in a familiar-looking kitchen on one of Merlin’ s screens.  Percival can see his hands fidgeting next to a kettle on a lit stovetop. 

“That’s your fifth nightmare in this week.” 

“I’m fine, Merlin.” Although his tone sounds insistent, Percival catches a hint of  resignation , as if  Eggsy knows that he’s  _ not  _ fine and never will be. 

“Your  _ fifth.  _ Your vitals acted up so strongly I feared you were going to have a heart attack. What do you dream about?” 

“You know what. Can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Merlin grits his teeth, before replying,  “I’m arranging you to see one of our psychologists tomorrow.” 

“I already see them.” 

“But do you talk about your dreams?”

Eggsy’s silence is enough to condemn him. 

“Harry wouldn’t want this for you,” Merlin says softly, and the glasses  abruptly  go dark. 

* * *

It’s a few weeks later before he hears Roxy’s voice, loud in the corridor. He’s known her since she was a rebellious child sneaking lizards into her room and trying to jump a fence with her father’s mare, but Percival also knows that Roxy rarely raises her voice.  _ It makes a statement,  _ she’s told him.  _ If people don’t expect you to yell, they’re always pleasantly surprised when you do. Startles them enough to get them to listen to you.  _

"Discretion, Eggsy, _discretion.” _She sounds clearly exasperated, and Percival hears a second set of footsteps scurry, as if someone’s trying to rush after her. When Roxy turns the corner, giving him a short nod as she walks past, he sees Eggsy, hair slightly rumpled and swinging an umbrella in his hand.    
  
"Come on, Rox, you can't say they didn't deserve it."    
  
"That's not the point,” she hisses. “Did you at least shoot them with amnesia darts?” 

“I wanted  th em to remember it,  Rox . They  ain’t goin ’ to hurt Mum again—”

“Couldn’t you just have swept your mother and sister away quietly? Did you have to put on such a _show—“_   
  
"Harry did it."   
  
Roxy suddenly halts, fists clenching at her sides before she whirls around to face him. "You're not Harry Hart," she snaps, jabbing a finger to his chest. 

Eggsy steps closer, grip tightening on the umbrella, snarling a furious “I know I’m not!”

Percival, just as he’s about to quietly maneuver around the two blocking the hallway, pauses in surprise.

"Then, stop! Y ou can't do things like this just so you can pretend to be a dead man!" 

“I’m not—this isn’t—“ 

“I know you cared about him, but this,” she gestures to Eggsy’s suit and hair, “isn’t going to bring him back—“   
  
"Fuck off!" Eggsysuddenly shouts back, fists curling at his sides. "Fuck off, Rox, you don't know anyth—"    
  
"That's _enough." _

Both of the younger knights turn at his voice—Roxy's face is bright red with anger or sadness or both, while  Eggsy's already regretful. 

"Galahad,” Percival says quietly,“come with me this minute."   
  
The boy follows, shooting an apologetic glance at Roxy, whose back is turned firmly away from him. Percival leads the way to his office, and it’s not until the door’s safely shut that he turns to Eggsy. “I know you’re grieving. But you have no right to treat your friend, a fellow agent, and a member of my family in such a manner.” 

“Manners  maketh man, right?”  Eggsy’s voice is bitter. 

Percival doesn’t miss a beat, turning to sit down on one of the chairs by the fireplace. “I can understand what this is like for you.”    
  
"You don't know shit." 

“I do believe I  _ do  _ know shit,” Percival says, landing on the leather seat with a soft thump. “Take a seat.”

Eggsy glares at him, but apparently decides to obey.  He’s clearly not happy, but Percival doesn’t expect him to be. 

“You may recall we lost Lancelot recently .”

"I do,” Eggsy mutters. “Merlin mentioned he was your friend?”   
  
"He was not my friend.”   
  
The boy pauses, clearly confused. "What?" 

Percival reaches into his pocket, and  Eggsy flinches, as if he’s going to pull out a weapon, but Percival simply opens his palm, allowing the boy a glimpse. 

At the surface, it looks like a simple pocket watch. On the inside is an engraving of a single date. James had always been so bloody sentimental.    
  
"James and I—" Percival looks at down at the pocket watch in his hand. "We had to be discreet. Not just because of that knob, Arthur, but because interpersonal relationships are discouraged in Kingsman." He shrugs. "It's better than a civilian relationship, but it's easy to become emotionally compromised if you have to keep watch over your colleague every day."   
  
The watch ticks, keeps ticking, like a heartbeat. That's what James used to say: _whenever you're away and hear that ticking, that's my heart beating in time to yours, no matter where we both are. _   
  
Percival runs his thumb down the polished edge.   
  
_You just re__cruited him to piss Arthur off_, Percival remembers saying the first night.    
  
_As you recruited Miss Morton._   
  
_That's different. She happens to be exceptional, clever, a graduate from one of Britain's finest institutions, and excellent with firearms. Even though __Eggsy__ is Lee's son, are you certai__n he's quite Kingsman material?_   
  
_I do,_Harry had said_. I have the utmost faith in him._

“ If you don't mind me  asking , how...why did you love him? ”

_ He loved the Bond films,  _ he wants to say.  _ I hated them, but we used to  _ _ rewatch _ _ them after missions, at my flat. He loved anything with explosion _ _ s and cheesy one-liners and rocket grenade launchers _ _ . He loved drinking vodka and singing along to whatever horrendous music was playing at two am and dancing around the room in woolen socks. He loved making everyone feel happy.  _

_He was always such a show-off, and didn't like restraint. Resented following protocol, but enjoyed what he did at Kingsman—saving people, defusing bombs, running along rooftops.__ But he was always so sincere, so honest and true; he made no secret of dislike or love. _   
  
But Percival refrains. He can't even call Eggsy a friend just yet. Yet he hasn't been truly able to talk about James to anyone—although he was certain that Merlin definitely knew and Harry strongly suspected, Percival couldn't be sure. 

He has a feeling that Roxy knew, too. She'd looked at a photo of them on his desk, only saying, “You must have been very fond of him. I'm sorry he's...being replaced so quickly. It must be hard.”   
  
James used to help him grieve, and Percival remembers one moment after the loss of Bedivere. 

_Everyone focuses so much on what could have been that they don't know what they already had_, James once said, sitting with him on the edge of their bed._You have so much__. _   
  
Percival was never particularly demonstrative, but he remembers replying _I have you_, and kissing the man he loved, regardless of the bruised ribs and broken nose. 

It’s been so long since he’s spoken, he realizes.  Eggsy expects a response. 

"He made me laugh," Percival says simply. “He made my life happier for it.”   
  
Eggsy doesn't say anything in reply, but Percival believes that the boy understands. He can't imagine being forced to take James' codename and being addressed that every day.    
  
"If you need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to stop by." He then lets his voice harden. "And you must apologize to Roxy."    
  
Eggsy nods, already getting up. His face is sincere, at least, nothing like the cool, perfectly smoothed-over agents or the so-called polite society Percival’s come to know better than his own face. 

"I know , "  Eggsy says softly, then nods in Percival’s direction before heading for the door. 

Percival watches him leave, the pocket watch still ticking in his palm.  It’s a hard thing to have a heart in this place.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote more to Eggsy's speech, which goes:
> 
> "I can't claim to have known Harry as long as you lot, or as well. But I wouldn't have been here without him. He changed my life. Harry saw something in some chav who quit Marine training and was living in a shithole in the estates. He saw a potential in me to do some good in my life and be the best man I could be. He was also my mentor and taught me how to be a gentleman. I don't know if I am one yet, but Harry certainly was. Harry was polite and courteous and kind, but wouldn't hesitate to come to your defense, wielding an umbrella and causing a scene in a local pub. I wish I had the chance to tell him thank you. Thank you, and that I will always love him miss him."


End file.
